


A World That Still Exists

by Welp



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: College, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Homesickness, everything is so complicated for dick grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welp/pseuds/Welp
Summary: Dick Grayson has never stopped thinking about his parents.It didn’t matter that over ten years had past. Or that his life now was as different from his former one as night and day. His parents were always flanking his every step. Present in his every decision. Two ghosts he lives with every moment of every day.Or, Dick Grayson's brief stint at Brown University





	A World That Still Exists

Dick Grayson has never stopped thinking about his parents.

It didn’t matter that over ten years had past. Or that his life now was as different from his former one as night and day. His parents were always flanking his every step. Present in his every decision. Two ghosts he lives with every moment of every day.

The only thing that changes with time is _how_ he thinks about them.

When he was eight and grieving, every thought, detail, and moment he remembered of his life at the circus was plagued with sadness and indescribable loss. He woke up every morning shocked at his not-yet familiar surroundings and he went to bed every night longing for a world that was lost to him forever. He dreamt of his father’s smile and his mother’s arms tight and warm around his shoulders. Car rides became grievous affairs when he involuntarily remembered he would never be going where he wanted to be and once he started on that train he could never drag his thoughts away. A terrible poking spike always rested at the back of his throat, growing bigger until he was choking and choking and…

Yeah, there was a time when it felt like the tragedy had become a part of his very being. The inevitable result of being awake and alive; it became infused into the fabric of who he was.

But time passed. Time removed him from the constant immediacy of the loss and the longing to return home to a world that didn’t exist anymore, to people who would never be around again. He built a life in Gotham, with Bruce and Alfred, with Batman at night and kids at school. His new room and the high ceilings of the manor became familiar through repetition and routine. Eventually, when someone said home he thought of Bruce’s big palm on his shoulder. Of swinging his feet as he sat on the kitchen counter watching Alfred make dinner. Of skyscraper rooftops and a black cape and _flying._

His parents could be happy in his mind again. Their smiles were just smiles, the circus a place of love and contentment. Less and less a source of unending grief and loss, he surprised himself when the passing scent of lilac brought his mother’s face into his mind, and he smiled at the reminder of her perfume instead of mourning her loss.

Now, however, at eighteen, as Dick lies in his twin sized dorm room bed, he stares at the beige ceiling tiles with a growing emptiness in his chest. The faint scent of hay and animal dung wafts in the through the window from the quad, where some student organization or other is hosting a Barnyard Babies event under the guise of de-stressing before midterms. He closes his eyes and breathes in the long ago familiar scents of animals in close quarters. A booming laugh echoes from far away and he thinks about Tony the lion tamer for the first time in a long time. Once upon a another life, he had sat in front of the lion cages for hours, watching them groom themselves with perfect pink tongues, telling them about his day as they stretched in their cages. His mother’s voice calls suddenly, too far away to make out the words; but judging by the waning sun he guesses it’s time to eat. He jumps to his feet, giving the lion in front of him a hurried good bye before bounding away-

His cell vibrates against his side, jerking Dick back from his sudden recollection. His hand fumbles at his side as he hurriedly extracts it from the tangle of his sheets. The screen lights up and the clock informs him it’s 6:15, almost two hours later than when he remembers laying down. Had he fallen asleep? His eyes jump downward to the new text notification at the center of the screen.

_We’ll discuss more tomorrow. Go to bed early. -B._

Dick closes his eyes again at the flood of frustration that comes over him. He brings the back of his hand to rub furiously against his forehead as he tosses the phone back onto the bed with the other. Bruce’s heartfelt follow up to their explosive phone call earlier in the day. Great. An angry huff pulls itself from Dick’s throat and vibrates through his nose. 

He pushes himself off of the bed and grabs his backpack in one fluid motion, rushing towards the door. He’s feeling raw and angry, frustrated beyond what he could imagine. He needs to be gone before his poor roommate gets back from the library; Dick knows himself well enough to understand that when he’s feeling like this, he needs to move, move, move before he explodes all over the nearest target. Dick feels the blood rushing in his arms, hears it behind his ears. He manages quick smiles and head nods for the people who acknowledge him in the hallway. Launching himself down the stairs three at a time, he bursts through the building’s door onto the busy quad. A few more hurried steps, and Dick finds himself in the quiet streets of College Hill surrounding the Brown campus. 

Dick has been in Providence for three months now, since the start of his first semester at Brown University in September. He likes the city, even though it feels like pure suburbia compared to the goliath that is Gotham. The past few months have been fun, to a degree. He’s liked exploring the streets surrounding his campus. Thayer Street has yummy food, Thai and Mexican and Indian restaurants all within a couple blocks of each other. The art students at RISD are a good time too, and he gets a kick out of seeing the student exhibits in the museum. It’s a nice city, overall. He’s made friends, at school and with the RIPTA bus driver on his normal route. He has few complaints, three months in.

He can’t exactly say that he’s happy though. 

The air is crisp as he moves quickly through the streets, no real destination in mind. Dick’s not in the exploring mood like he usually is, and instead he moves with his head down at the sidewalk. His fight with Bruce from earlier is echoing in his head. It was the usual spiel, but that fact only serves to make Dick feel worse. Lately they haven’t been able to avoid these petty conflicts. 

Bruce is always surgical and direct in his questioning of Dick’s day, his classes, his health. There’s never any time for chit chat, for reciprocal conversation. Dick gets defensive, wary of any hint of condescension in Bruce’s tone, snaps that Bruce can tone down the interrogation tactics. He’s an adult, not some snotty nine year old who can’t feed himself. Bruce vague insinuations that Dick’s immature, inexperienced. Dick makes some strong insinuations that Bruce has no place bossing him around like he’s some sort of father. So far Dick’s refrained from outright shouting, “You’re not my dad!” but it’s still close enough that Bruce hangs up with hurt feelings, and Dick with a sickening feeling that the opposite is becoming increasingly true.

It doesn’t help that Dick misses Bruce like hell.

He thought he was so ready to start school over the summer. Bruce’s hovering and coddling and dismissal was tolerable in the months leading up to the change, simply because Dick had known that in a few months he’d be independent, in his own city. Every patrol that ended with Dick sent back to the Cave with his tail between his legs, every time they disagreed about how to tackle a strategic situation, Dick had been able to grit his teeth and shake it off. _Just a few more months,_ had become his internal mantra. _Just two more months. Just one more._

And then the fateful day had come. The three of them had piled into the car, his dorm paraphernalia and books shipped down a week ahead of time. They had dropped him off at his dorm, helped him carry his suit case up to the room. Bruce shook hands with his new roommate and Alfred lamented the cracked grout along the base of the wall in his teen tiny new double room. The two left without fanfare, a clasped hand on his shoulder and one last straightened collar. They left him there with his new life, his new city, his new future. He keeps telling himself that it isn’t so dramatic, but he can’t deny that Bruce left him there. The weekly phone calls don’t make him any less lonely, any less isolated. Bruce hasn’t visited, and Dick hasn’t been home since.

He wants it to be silly that he’s sad all the time. He thinks it’s probably dumb to feel like he got kicked to the curb after Bruce fulfilled his obligation. He tells himself he’s mourning a place that still exists, people who are still around, they’re just a little further away now. A train ride and two hours, tops, and he could be at the Manor, home with Bruce and Alfred. Flying across the rooftops at dusk. He’s sad about a place that still exists, he just hasn’t been there in a while. He shouldn’t be explosive at Bruce every time they talk, every time he sees a text notification with his name above it. 

It’s different, sure. Being eighteen means he’s not tied to Bruce legally anymore, sure. But there are other things. Familiarity, loyalty, routine, familiarity. Even if obligation is gone, and proximity too, there had to still be something. There is something, even if Dick can’t name it right now. He still belongs there.

He hopes he still belongs there. 

Dick stops walking, still in the middle of the sidewalk. He leans forward and presses his face into his hand, breathing in and out deeply. He feels wrung out, and tired, and frayed all along the edges. He straightens up and turns on his, walking briskly back towards the iron wrought campus gates. Dick isn’t completely directionless, his life not completely pointless and empty. There are things he needs to do, even if its just English Lit reading and a politics research proposal instead of patrolling and saving lives and helping people. Even if it’s things he has to do without Bruce. 

Dick marches past his dorm, past the dwindling crowd on the quad. People wave as he passes, kids he recognizes from class and his floor. He forced smiles and nods when he’s supposed to. He nearly storms through the doors of the library and he drops himself in one of the free cubicles.

_Stop being so dramatic,_ Dick tells himself. _You’re not some victim, you’re not some lost kid. Suck it up and do your homework._

He opens his book and his laptop in front of him and buckles down to do his work. He’ll worry about Bruce later. They’ll talk tomorrow and it will be fine. For now, he has assignments and an 8:30 in the morning.

 

—

 

It’s dark when he leaves the library. Really dark. A quick glance at his watch tells him that its 1:30, prime crime time in Gotham. The campus isn’t completely dead, there's music echoing from a dorm building nearby, and he passes a small group of girls on his walk, presumably returning from a weeknight bar trip.

The sounds of Providence are different than the sounds of Gotham. The city isn’t quiet, no city ever is, but theres a laziness to the rumbling of the cars, to the wafting voices that rain from windows and drift across the street. It lacks the paranoia, the urgency that takes over Gotham at this hour. A barking dog is just a barking dog, not an omen of trouble. A kicked can on the sidewalk is an accident, not an indicator of someone in close pursuit.

It’s different. And a little bizarre. He keeps thinking about Batman, about what case he’s working on and about what routes he’s taking tonight. He has a google alert set up on his phone for news of Gotham and it’s protector, but its been quiet for the last week or two. No prison breaks, no crises to be worried about. 

He pulls out the phone and stares at the screen for a moment, Bruce and home in every one of his thoughts. For a moment he’s overcome by the same overwhelming feeling that struck him earlier, panic and anger and a deep sadness that he can’t place. He stops walking and opens his contacts. _Well,_ thinks Dick, _it is tomorrow_. He remembers Bruce’s terce demand from earlier, _Go to bed early_ , and scoffs. The phone rings as he brings it to his ear.

The voicemail picks up, just like he’d expected since Bruce is probably two hours deep into patrol. At the beep, he says, “Hi Bruce, I know that you’re out right now. I was just, um. I wanted to say that… I was thinking about our conversation earlier and I know we always get so…” He stopped to clear his throat, feeling hot in the face all of a sudden. He blurts out the rest in a rush, “I was just thinking about you, is all. And I realized that I need to come home next weekend to pick up some sweaters, the weather has really started to change. Would you or Alfred be able to pick me up from the train station Friday afternoon?”

Dick waits a moment, coughing once more. “Hope your night is good. Let me know.” He ends the call and stares at his phone for another moment before resuming his walk. 

He climbs into bed around 2:30, after a quick shower and ten more pages of reading. He plugs his phone in and places it on his nightstand. He drifts off to sleep staring at its lingering glow, hoping he’ll feel less untethered in the morning.

 

—

 

He wakes up a mere five hours later when his alarm jolts him from sleep at 7:45. Across the small room, his roommate groans and rolls over as Dick quickly silences the noise. He sits up slowly, using the back of his hand to wipe the grogginess from his eyes. His legs swing over the side of his bed, but before he stands up he checks his notifications.

One new text from Bruce, received at 4:53 in the morning. Dick feels a laugh rise in him again. _Go to bed early._ Yeah, right, Bruce. What a hypocrite.

The new text reads: _Don’t take the train. When’s your last class Fri. -B_

Dick answers quickly: _11:30. Why?_

He moves to get dressed, not expecting an immediate response. He starts the process of pulling on his clothes and gathering his books in the dark of the room, struggling not to bother his sleeping roommate two feet away, only to stop when the phone vibrates again. Bruce must not have fallen asleep yet.

_Be ready by 1. -B_

A grin quickly jumps onto his face, sudden and uncontrollable. Short, declarative, but the point got across. Bruce was coming to get him. Dick sent back a smiley face, mirroring his own. 

Maybe it would be okay after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to comics, so I hope everyone enjoyed! I think I remember seeing somewhere that Dick spent some time going to school before he enrolled in the police academy, and I wanted to play with that in between time before he really broke away from Bruce. I meant originally for this to be a longer work; I lost steam but may still update sporadically :)


End file.
